


Insatiable

by mahbecks



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Humor, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, all the sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was insatiable. Unquenched. Impossible. And she blamed him. </p><p>Now she wanted to see how much he could satisfy her in one day?</p><p>Maker's breath, but she was going to be the death of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If at First...

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea. I don't have any idea. 
> 
> Features my Inquisitor and Cullen from my finished story, "All's Fair," but just for ease of writing. No spoilers here! It's not really a sequel, but since it happens after that story's events, I guess it kind of is. But this is pretty much entirely porn :) haha
> 
> Interestingly enough, inspired by real-life events! XD

“I’m bored.”

Cullen looked up from his report. Evelyn was sitting in a chair by the balcony, staring absently out over the mountains. She turned to look at him a moment later, jade eyes flicking down to the papers in front of him.

He smiled apologetically at her. “Just a few more, I promise,” he replied, moving to scrawl his signature across the bottom of the current page.

“You’ve been saying that for hours,” she complained, sighing heavily.

“I told you that you didn’t have to wait for me,” he reminded her. “I can come and find you afterwards if you wish to leave.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No one will let me do anything anyways.” Her voice was sullen, and he couldn’t help but steal a look at her body. She was only five months pregnant, her stomach rounder than usual but hardly swollen, and people were already attempting to limit her physical activities. She had protested vehemently at first, claiming it was perfectly safe for her to still perform her normal activities, but she was facing quite the united front. No chances were being taken. Everyone was excited about the Inquisitor’s first child, making sure everything was perfect for its arrival. 

He smiled softly at the thought. Her child. His child. _Their_ child. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. He was still coming to terms with the idea that Evelyn loved him, let alone that she was carrying his child.

It was… incredible.

“Could I… persuade you to put those away for a few minutes?” she asked suddenly, teeth bared in a wicked smirk.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Whatever for?” he asked. He smirked back, realizing full well what was on her mind.

That was another benefit of her pregnancy. Evelyn had never been shy about their physical relations; she knew what she wanted and how to get it. And she was very vocal about expressing her needs. But lately, she was insatiable; she literally could not get enough of him. She’d woken him in the middle of the night, dragged him out of the war room into broom closets, and even cornered him in the stables once. The entire time he’d been worried about getting caught.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it.

He certainly wasn’t complaining about this unexpected side effect. Of course not.

Evelyn rose from her chair and sauntered over to him, seating herself upon his lap and leaning back against the desk. “I’ll only need a few minutes,” she murmured, fingers dancing up his breastplate and toying with the buckles.

His breath hitched in his throat as she parted the metal and eased it to the floor. Her nimble fingers were gentle, fleeting as she removed the other pieces of his armor next. And then she was touching his skin, palms diving under the collar of his shirt to press against his naked flesh. He could feel his heart beating faster in anticipation, his awakening arousal tightening his pants.

His hands found her hips, thumbs tucking inside the waistband of her trousers. She hummed appreciatively and began slipping the buttons of his shirt through the catches, easily pushing the fabric aside.

“I believe I can spare a few minutes,” he said quickly.

She leaned in swiftly and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I thought so,” she murmured, lips teasing against his skin.

He picked her up, sitting her on top of the desk and pushing her knees wide. A hand fisted in her dark hair, pulling her head back as he kissed her deeply. She moaned and arched into him like a cat, her hands gripping his shoulders tight. Her lips parted invitingly and he tightened his grip on her hair as he deepened the kiss. He loved how luscious her lips were, how soft and pliant they were as they moved against his. He could never get enough of them; he could spend  _hours_ just kissing her. 

She was breathless when he drew back, eyes dark with lust. She leaned back, removing her hands to rip away the fabric of her shirt, heavy breasts falling free. His cock twitched at the sight of them, perfect and round and soft, hands moving instantly to cup them. "Wearing nothing underneath, are you?" he asked, grinning at her.

Evelyn hissed at the sensation, pressing herself forward. "None of my bindings fit anymore," she snapped between clenched teeth. "They're too tight." He squeezed one breast tightly, and she shuddered. He loved how sensitive she had been lately. The lightest touches seemed to set her blood afire with desire. It was maddeningly arousing to see her come undone so quickly.

He reached a hand down between them, cupping her sex through her clothes. She gasped, grinding down against him as he moved his fingers back and forth across the fabric. His other hand continued to knead her breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers until it was a small, hard peak.

“Cullen,” Evelyn groaned, hands moving down his shoulders to his belt. She paused there, staring up at him through her lashes. She moaned again as he rolled his fingers across the seam of her trousers, sitting tight against her sex, and it took all of his strength not to rip the article of clothing off her body. Maker, but the _sounds_ she made…

“These need to go,” she panted, slipping his belt through its loops. "Mine too." It dropped to the floor unheeded as she immediately went on to his pants. She pushed them down to his knees even as he worked on getting her bare. She pulled him towards her, forcing his cock towards her wet heat. He groaned, leaning her backwards against the desk as he pushed inside her. She clung to him as he filled him, bringing their bodies as close as possible.

She was impossibly tight around him, wet and warm and velvet. He took just a moment to savor the sensation before he began to thrust into her. She mewled beneath him, hands frantic as she grasped the desk for purchase.

His pace was frenetic as he gave it to her hard and fast. She was gasping for breath in a matter of minutes, urging him onward with curt, snapped sentences. He could sense that she was almost there; it didn’t take much these days. He grabbed her hips then, pulling her upward to change the angle, and he slid in even deeper than before.

She let out a guttural cry, back arching off the desk. “There!” she commanded, throwing her head back with abandon. “Maker, _right_ fucking there!”

Her wish was his command.

He felt her core shudder around him before he heard her cry out in pleasure. She collapsed limply against the desk, and he sped up his thrusts, joining her in ecstasy several moments later. He fell forward, leaning his hands against the desk as he panted to regain his breath. Her cool hands came up to press against his forehead comfortingly. He twisted his head to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. The skin was incredibly soft to the touch, and she giggled.

“That tickles,” she murmured.

He kissed her again, teasingly, and she withdrew her hands, pushing herself up onto her elbows. He withdrew from her body, reluctant to leave her heat, and grabbed a spare handkerchief, cleaning the both of them up before tossing the used cloth to the ground.

“Is my lady satisfied?” he asked, reaching down to pull his pants back up.

She winked at him roguishly. “Never,” she replied.

He chuckled. “But for now?” he asked.

“For now,” she allowed. She watched him as he pulled his shirt back on, jade eyes intent on his movements. He forsook the armor; he’d put it on when he left their quarters. For now, he would enjoy this moment of relaxation.

She was still staring at him when he finished dressing. “Something the matter?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you merely enjoying the view?”

She snorted. “Always.” She pushed herself into a sitting position then, putting out a hand for her shirt. Cullen gave it to her, and she shrugged into it, though she didn’t button it. It left her exposed as she stood up and walked around the desk.

But again, he wasn’t complaining. It was a lovely picture.

“I have an idea.”

He blinked, recognizing that tone in her voice. It was pure mischief. She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes impish.

“That sounds dangerous,” he replied.

“How many times do you think we can have sex in a day?”

He was so taken aback by the question that it took him several minutes to answer her properly. “I… don’t know. Three, maybe four?”

“Hmm.” She tapped a finger across her lips, turning to face him. He was momentarily distracted by the swell of her breasts, and her extending stomach beneath it, but then his eyes flicked back up to her face. She was grinning. “Want to make it a contest?”

“A contest?” he repeated.

“Sure,” she said. “See how many times we can in one day. How many places. How many ways.”

“Maker’s breath,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insatiable.”

“I’m _pregnant_ ,” she corrected. She walked over to him, grabbing his hands with her own. One pair of hands found its way to her belly, and he couldn’t tell whether she’d done it on purpose or not. “And seeing as how this is _your_ fault, don’t you think you owe this to me?”

“ _My_ fault?” he asked. “I certainly didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Do we have a deal?” she asked, ignoring his comment. She gave him a sly smile as he considered it. There was really nothing to consider of course. He’d never desired a woman in his life as he desired Evelyn, nor had he ever loved a woman so desperately. He would never be able to resist her advances. She was his one and only weakness.

There was success in her eyes as he returned his gaze to her face. She knew what his answer was going to be before he said it, the minx. And she loved it.

“We have a deal.”

She beamed at him, moving to her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips. “Wonderful!” she said. “You won’t regret this!”

He shook his head at her eagerness. “When do you want to start?”

“Hmmm… let’s give it a week with no sex,” she said. “Can you do that?”

“… I went without sex for almost four years upon arriving in Kirkwall,” he said, frowning. “I can last a week, Evelyn.”

She threw up her hands defensively. “Alright!” she replied. “It was just a question.”

“Can _you_ last a week?” he asked, smirking. He was confident that he could restraint himself, but her? If her current state of near constant arousal?

He wasn’t at all convinced.

“If you can do it, I can,” she said, jutting her chin forward stubbornly.

He smirked and reached out, tweaking one of her exposed nipples. She gasped in surprise, glaring at him. “Cullen!” she said sharply, smacking his hand away. But despite her offended tone, she made no move to cover herself.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her nipples from further assault. “Don’t be hasty,” she snapped. “One week.”

“One week,” he agreed.

“I’m leaving,” she said then. “I have work to do, and I can’t get it done here.” She turned on her heel, reaching down to button her shirt.

“You mean to say I’m distracting,” he called out after her.

She stuck her tongue out at him as she hopped down the stairs. He chuckled at her antics, waiting until he heard the outer door close before he turned back to the desk. It was in shambles, papers strewn everywhere. They were lucky they hadn’t spilled any ink this time. They’d never managed to get it out of that one carpet.

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips as he tallied the damage. That poor desk had suffered more abuse than was appropriate. Maybe they could retire it.

Afterwards, of course. He had a feeling Evelyn was going to have more uses for the desk after a week without sex. He snorted at the thought, moving to begin reorganizing his reports.

Maker’s breath.

What had he gotten himself into?


	2. You Don't Succeed...

_Clang_.

The man’s sword hit his opponent’s with a metallic ringing noise, sparks flying from the force of the impact. They held for a moment, grappling with each other in a test of wills. But sensing that neither was going to bend, the two men darted away from each other, circling round with wary steps. Sweat was beading across their brows, running in rivulets down their temples and collecting along their collarbones.

Delrin Barris was a magnificent specimen of a man, Evelyn decided. Years of training with the Templar Order had given him a sculpted, muscular physique that she could quite appreciate. His arms were strong, muscles bunching and cording with his movements, and his shoulders were broad, firm. But his movements weren’t bulky and clumsy; they were smooth and graceful, liquid and fierce. It was hypnotic, like she was watching a dance.

She licked her lips, the familiar sensation of want in her core leaving her breathless.

Her eyes flicked to the other man.

Knight-Captain Rylen too was a shining example of masculinity. Another veteran of Templar training, he was no less physically fit than Ser Barris. But where Barris moved like water and silk, Rylen was a bit rougher around the edges. He charged into his attacks more, and he hit a little harder. He bared his teeth as he drove his sword down, feral and raw.

It was hard to say which of the two men was the better fighter. Neither seemed to have much of an advantage in this fight. Each was a veteran of countless battles against the hordes of Corypheus, and each had risen to the occasion splendidly.

Evelyn’s eyes darted between the two of them as the sparring match continued. She had the perfect view, perched on the fence surrounding the area. And she wasn’t alone; other admirers had crept up as the fight had progressed. A healthy crowd stood with her now, taking bets on who would be the victor.

She wasn’t taking bets, though. She was just there for fun.

She pulled her lip between her teeth then, fighting the urge to squirm on the fence post. She was straddling it with her legs, the wood sitting hard against her core. It would be so easy to slowly slide forward… so easy to give in to desire... and that  _friction_ it would elicit...

A pair of warm hands grasped her hips from behind.

Evelyn whirled, head nearly colliding with Cullen’s as he pressed himself against her back. “What are you doing?” he murmured. His hot breath fanned against her cheek, his hands tight.

“Nothing,” she breathed, pressing back against him.

He chuckled, seeing right through her flimsy answer. “I thought we agreed upon a week,” he said.

“We did.” She nodded towards the sparring ring, where Barris and Rylen were finishing up their match. “I’m… taking notes.”

“You’re being naughty,” he replied, squeezing one of her hips gently.

“I can’t help it,” she snapped back. “They’re so… pretty.”

A low, dangerous growl met her ears, and she shivered in delight. Cullen stepped a little closer to her, pressing himself more firmly against her back.

He was hard.

“No touching,” he said warningly.

“Of course not,” she agreed. “Besides, Ser Barris is celibate, and Rylen’s married.” She winked at him. “I’m naughty, but not _that_ naughty.” She snaked a hand back between them and squeezed him through his trousers. "Unlike _someone_."

He stifled a groan and stepped back before they got carried away. She mourned the loss of contact, shifting on the fence so that she was no longer straddling it. “Three more days,” he told her firmly.

“I can manage.”

He raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Cheers erupted from the ring then, and the both of them turned to see who had claimed the match. Rylen had taken a knee, nursing a shallow cut on his arm. Barris extended a hand to him, and the Knight-Captain took it, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. They shook hands once more and then went to opposite sides of the rings, where friends were waiting with water and cloths.

Barris then. She smirked as the coins began changing hands.

“It’s a good thing he’s the new leader of the Fereldan Templars,” Cullen remarked. She turned back to him. “He’s an excellent fighter.”

“I’ll bet that’s not the only thing he’s excellent at,” she smirked.

He took a step forward and grabbed her chin. “Don’t you worry about _that_ Commander,” he said casually, leaning forward and kissing her hard on the mouth. She smiled into his lips and reached for him, but he pulled away, smirking at her.

“Worry about the Commander in your bedroom.”

* * * * *

What had she been thinking?

A week without sex?

Maker!

Evelyn paced the length of the room like a caged cat, hands fisted at her sides.

There was no reason for her to be feeling so… heated. She had gone much longer periods without sex before. She didn’t need it. And yet it was all that she could think about. The past five days had been maddening. It was like a constant itch that she couldn’t scratch, a humming just beneath the surface of her skin. It made her angry.

And there was no relief. She’d done everything she could; she’d attempted to bury herself in the business of the Inquisition, but she’d annoyed Josie so much that the gentle Antivan had thrown her out of her office. She’d tried to do some light training exercises, but every one of her friends had refused to spar with her, giving her mumbled excuses about her "condition". She’d even gone to Dagna and asked for ice runes to put in her bathwater, figuring the cold would shock her system.

That had worked, briefly. And then she’d seen a shirtless Cullen instructing new recruits in the sparring ring, and she found herself aroused all over again.

Damn that man! Why did he have to be so attractive?

“I don’t think the arrangement of his facial features is something he has a lot of control over, Evelyn.”

Evelyn whipped around, glaring at the mage sitting before her fire. Had she said that last out loud? Dorian was smirking at her, so she must have. “Shut up,” she snapped.

“No need to be snippy,” he sniffed, returning to his book. “Honestly, you just need to find something to occupy your time!”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the past five days?” she demanded. She moved to sit down across from him.

“Making yourself miserable?” he guessed. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

Her anger dissipated, and she sat back in the chair, defeated. “I know.”

“And watching those delectable Templars sparring?” He grinned at her. “You naughty, naughty girl!”

“You were watching too!”

“Indeed, I did!” he agreed. “And afterwards, I marched up to Bull and demanded that he solve the problem in my pants! You didn’t have that option.”

“Why did I suggest this?” she asked, running a hand through her hair. “What in Thedas was I thinking?”

The mage snorted, shaking his head. “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” he muttered. “A week without sex?” He shuddered.

“I can’t even touch myself,” she complained.

“Thank you for sharing that,” Dorian replied. He considered the implications of that for a moment, and then shook his head. “What _were_ you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” she retorted.

“Clearly.”

“You know what the worst part is?”

He blinked at her. “There’s a part worse than this?” he deadpanned.

“I can’t have wine,” she sighed.

“No?”

“The healers told me that I should drink water and fruit juices,” she explained. “Watered down beer and wine is occasionally alright with dinner, but what’s the point?”

The mage reached forward and placed a hand on her arm. “You have my deepest sympathies, my dear,” he said solemnly.

“Yesterday, all that I wanted was a glass of wine and a nap,” she said mournfully. Tears pricked her eyes and she dashed them away, hating how weepy she suddenly felt. She glared down at her protruding stomach, as if it were to blame. She sniffled. “But I couldn’t have the wine, and then I couldn’t fall asleep!” Sleep was getting harder and harder to come by these days; soon, she feared her stomach would be too large for any sort of comfort at all.

The thought brought her tears back in full force.

“Oh, dear,” Dorian said. He brought her hands down from her face and handed her a handkerchief. She took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m acting this way,” she said thickly. “I don’t mean to.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” he said gently. “And perfectly normal!”

“But I’m such a nuisance!”

“You’re pregnant,” he reminded her. “You’re allowed to be a nuisance.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” He beamed at her. “I blame Cullen for this anyways.”

She let out a watery chuckle at that. “Me too.”

“Not to mention, I’ve made a list of all my grievances towards you,” he continued in an offhand sort of way. “I’ll exact my vengeance at some point in the future.”

“Grievances?” she repeated, taken aback. “Am I that bad?”

He smiled at her, and pointedly ignored her question. “If you’re so keen on a nap, might I interest you in a sleeping draught? Solas taught me his recipe before he vanished into thin air, that cheeky blighter.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I didn’t!” he agreed. “I know not to poke a bear with a stick.”

Evelyn scowled at him, but allowed herself to be escorted over to her bed, where she settled herself in amongst the various pillows and blankets. Dorian handed her a small bottle and then procured her a glass of water from the ewer on the end table. She uncorked the bottle and hesitantly sniffed it.

She gagged.

“Dreadful, isn’t it? Unfortunately, this is the combination of ingredients that works the best.”

She downed the foul substance in one swallow, spluttering as the liquid burned her throat. She hastily accepted the water from Dorian, gulping in down. “Maker!” she gasped. “What is that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She shuddered and lay back amongst the pillows. She could already feel the draught working, tugging at her eyelids and making them heavy. She reached down to pull the blankets up to her chin, snuggling in.

“Sleep well, my dear,” Dorian’s voice was tunneled, as if he were speaking to her from far away. Her eyes had slipped closed moments earlier, but she felt his hand push the hair back from her face.

She mumbled her thanks, not caring if he understood her or not, hugging a pillow close to her chest.

It smelled of Cullen, and softly lulled her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot happens this chapter, but I wanted to set the scene. I also really wanted to write about how hot Ser Barris and Rylen are, so hey, killing two birds with one stone :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> The sex comes next! :)


	3. Try...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn has her cake, and eats it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to Kitty_Drakeheart for the idea of kitchen sex! I hope this satisfies! :)

She was starving.

It was a common problem these days, and her hunger would hit at the most inopportune times imaginable. She’d wake up in the middle of the night craving sweet rolls or pastries. And during mid-morning council meetings, she’d have to hug her stomach tight to suppress her middle’s demands for more food, much to the amusement of her advisors. Of course, her friends were more than willing to provide her with snacks. But it made her feel a little guilty; they were too good to her. 

And it was embarrassing. The others had assured her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, that it was perfectly natural, but their words offered her little comfort. They weren't the ones hungry at all hours of the day. They weren’t the ones the cook had caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

Or a spoon in the stew.

Or a knife in the roast.

Or –

She eased the door to the kitchens open and peeked her head through the gap. The fires were burning low in the hearths, preparations for tomorrow’s meals lying in wait. She could smell the rich, earthy spices in the air, and her mouth watered when she saw the bread dough rising on the island in the middle of the room. A half-iced cake sat on a table across from her, nestled among various pastries and confections to be served at breakfast.

But the kitchens were empty, as was the larder just beyond. The cooks had long since retired.

Relieved, she stepped through the door. It swung shut behind her with a soft click.

She took a few steps towards the cake, the scent of rich, buttery frosting filling the air. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively. But she had to resist; the intricate patterns along the side indicated it was for a special occasion. She’d already invoked the cook’s wrath. She couldn’t afford to alienate the bakers too.

Luckily, there was a bowl of frosting sitting to the side of the table. She eyed it, dragging her lip between her teeth as she contemplated whether or not she could get away with a spoonful. There was quite a bit in the bowl… more than enough to ice the remaining layer of cake. Her fingers found a spare spoon and she pulled it into a loose grip, her thumb tapping against the handle anxiously.

She peeked over her shoulder again, as if she thought someone would jump out and catch her in the act.

But no one was there.

She took the final step towards the bowl, dipping her spoon into the white, creamy icing before bringing it to her lips. It was delicious and decadent. She hummed in contentment as the cloyingly sweet confection hit her tongue. She licked the spoon clean in the space of a moment, staring at the silver utensil remorsefully when all of the icing was gone.

She eyed the bowl again; there was still quite a bit left in the bowl…

Her spoon had dipped back into the frosting before she realized her hand had moved. She was less careful this time, sucking the cream from the spoon in one motion before returning to the bowl for more.

She lost track of how many spoonful’s she ate. It was just too good.

Maker, but they should make cake more often! Why didn’t they have cake every day? A lack of ingredients? Not enough bakers? She would have to ask Josie; the Antivan would know, and Evelyn was positive that she could rectify the situation. Only good things could come of more cake. She was absolutely sure of that.

A warm pair of arms enveloped her from behind.

Evelyn whipped around so fast she smacked herself in the face with the spoon. Cullen chuckled as he steadied her, catching the utensil before it hit the floor. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She’d been caught. She felt her cheeks heat, and she looked down at the floor. “… I was hungry,” she murmured.

He peered around her to the bowl of icing; she'd eaten an embarrassing amount of it, the bowl almost empty now.

Cullen snorted at the scene of the crime. “For cake frosting?” he asked. “If I’d known you had such a sweet tooth, I would have wooed you with dessert instead of chess games and bad dancing.”

She shoved at him playfully. “It’s not my fault,” she snapped. “It was just… just sitting there! And smelling good, and looking pretty, and…”

“And you were hungry,” he grinned, finishing her sentence.

“Yes.”

“For cake.”

“Only the icing,” she clarified.

“And how was the icing?”

His eyes were fixated on her lips. Did she have icing on her face? She flicked her tongue out to see, but her thoughts were lost at Cullen’s sharp intake of breath.

Slowly, he leaned forward until their faces were nearly touching. She thought he was about to kiss her, but his hands were firm as he held her back. Confused, she frowned up at him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Shhh,” he shushed her.

And then he licked her.

He licked the icing from her lips, drawing it into his mouth and swallowing the surprised gasp that was torn from her mouth. He half pulled back, a smirk on his face, and she surged forward to kiss him. He didn’t stop her this time, and even pulled her close as she drew their mouths together.

The kiss tasted of sugar and spice, and she couldn’t get enough. She tilted her head, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. Cullen groaned, hands moving to the counter behind her and pinning her into place. He pressed his body up against hers, and she shivered. She lost herself in the kiss, touching his body everywhere she could – his face, his hair, his arms, his torso.

She slipped a hand between the buttons of his shirt and pulled, hard; the fabric ripped in her hands, and then she was touching hot, fevered skin. She trailed her nails down his chest, grazing a nipple, and the noise he made in reply made her burn.

He pulled away then. “You taste sweet,” he murmured against her lips. He considered said lips for a moment before grabbing one between his teeth, biting down just hard enough that she cried out. He pulled it into his mouth then, soothing the bite with his tongue, and her sex throbbed in response. One of her hands had to reach behind her for the support of the counter. Sensing how she swayed, he pushed her back further, fingers snaking up her back so that his hands were the only things keeping her upright.

He pulled away again, and she voiced her displeasure at the sudden loss of contact. She reached to pull him back to her, but he resisted. “Impatient, are we?” he breathed, warm breath fanning against her skin.

“I haven’t had you in a week,” she replied, a hand snaking down his side. She slipped it down the back of his trousers, nails digging into the firm flesh of his backside. He instinctually bucked forward, and she relished the belabored moan she drug from his chest. Her mouth curved up in a wicked smirk as she watched a lone bead of sweat trail down his temple. “Impatient is an understatement.”

“A week,” he repeated, grinding their lower halves together again. Now it was her turn to moan. “Maker’s breath, a _week_.”

“Miss me?” she asked, working her hand around to the front of his trousers.

He caught the hand just as she was about to reach the prize. He smirked down at her, pulling the intruding digits from his pants. “I daresay not as much as you missed me,” he retorted.

He reached out and grabbed the tie of her silken robe. It fell loose with a firm yank, and the fabric pooled around her waist, catching on the counter. Her breasts spilled free, and Cullen buried his face in them, suckling one, and then the other. She clutched at his head fiercely, raking her fingers through his curling hair. Every so often, his hips would snap forward in anticipation, and the cake stand wobbled precariously.

“Careful, love,” she said warningly, eyeing the confection. “Don’t make the cake fall.”

He chuckled, looking up at her over the swell of her chest. “I thought you liked cake,” he teased, nipping at the underside of a breast.

She giggled at the ticklish sensation. “Not _on_ me!” she replied.

That caught his attention. He raised his head, looking at her curiously. His eyes flicked over to the bowl of icing that lay abandoned beside them. He dipped a finger into the sweet substance and lifted it to his face, inspecting it. His eyes flicked back down to her, and he grinned.

“What are you-?”

Cullen smeared the frosting across her nipple. She didn’t have time to protest before his mouth was upon her, licking her clean. She watched, spellbound, as the white substance disappeared into his mouth. Her thighs clenched together with want as he repeated the motion on the other nipple. He looked up at her wickedly as he licked the icing from his lips, guessing the reason for her sudden movement.

“You taste sweet,” he said again. 

Evelyn reached into the bowl next, sitting up and smearing the icing across Cullen’s chest. She wasted no time in setting to work, licking a trail down his chest, cleaning it with her tongue. She paused at a nipple, tugging at it with her teeth, and he groaned; she felt his cock twitch against her thigh and she grinned, hopping off the counter so that she could move lower.

She caught the button of his trousers in her teeth, pulling on it teasingly even as she palmed him through the fabric. He bucked into her hands and she squeezed his length. “Evelyn,” he said; his voice was tight with restraint, with need.

She stood, and her robe fell to the floor. Cullen drank in the sight of her, staying still as she pushed his shirt off and yanked on his belt. She smiled at him through her lashes, the adoration in his eyes making her giddy.

Or maybe that was all of the sugar.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He grinned and reached behind her. She wasn’t surprised when the hand returned with another dollop of frosting. He held the finger out before her and she took it all of the way into her mouth, scraping it clean with her teeth. It popped out from her lips with an obscene sort of noise, and he instantly claimed her lips in a fierce kiss.

“And you taste delicious,” he murmured.

She shivered violently and grabbed at his pants, removing the final obstacle between them. He twirled her around effortlessly and slid into her in one swift motion. She pushed back against his hips with a ragged groan, anxious for as much of him as she could get. He withdrew all of the way out and then snapped his pelvis forward again; she cried out as her body rocked forward with the force of it, pleasure tingling along her every nerve.

He pushed her down until her torso was horizontal, ass pressed firmly against his hips. She gripped the edge of the counter as he took her relentlessly from behind. A litany of soft, mewling noises poured from her throat, echoed by his throaty grunts and whispered platitudes of how much he'd missed her, how good she felt.

Suddenly, Cullen lifted her hips, her feet rising off the ground, and slammed into her even harder than before.

Evelyn screamed, nails gouging into the wood beneath her hands.

He hit the same spot again, and her eyes watered at how good it felt. “ _Yes_ ,” she moaned.

“There?” he panted, even as he thrust into her wet heat again.

“There!”

She would not last much longer, not at this rate. She was so sensitive for abstaining for a week – it was like lightning was racing across her skin. Her pulse was erratic, heart pounding in her breast, and she was gasping for air. Sweat dripped across her skin, cooling her, but it did nothing to assuage the heat in her core.

She whimpered, pulling on one of Cullen’s hands, trying to get her plea across. He heard it and moved a hand from her hip to reach down between her thighs, cupping her sex in his rough hand. She jerked as his questing fingers found their goal. “Sensitive?” he ground out above her.

Evelyn reached back and grasped his head, bringing him down so that his body curved over hers. He was slick to her touch, his light sheen of sweat mingling with her own. His chin rested upon her shoulder, his free hand coming up to grab her breasts. He tweaked a nipple between two of his fingers, again, and then again.

It was too much. “Cullen-” She warned him mere seconds before the force of her release took her, and she went limp in his arms. He bit down on her shoulder, hard, to muffle his groan, bucking into her wildly a few more times before he relaxed behind her.

They collapsed to the floor in a pile of sticky, sweaty limbs. Withdrawing from her body, Cullen sat up and drew her into him, caging her with his legs. She rested against his chest gratefully, breasts heaving with the effort of regaining her breath.

His lips ghosted down her jaw, phantom kisses pressed against her skin. He stopped at her mouth, pressing ever so gently against her lips. She smiled, curling in closer to his warmth.

“I’m sticky,” he murmured.

She chuckled. “Me too,” she replied. She turned her head to look at him. “We should leave. I think we were rather loud.” She cleared her throat. “I’d rather the cooks not find us like this.”

His nose wrinkled in distaste. “Agreed,” he said. “Should we… clean up first?”

“Probably,” she said. She pointed to where his seed had spattered the floor. “Unless you want to be the talk of Skyhold. Again.”

He groaned, letting his forehead tap her shoulder. “How would they know it was us?”

“They would know.”

He huffed. “You’re probably right.” He pushed her away then, rising to his feet and grabbing his clothing. “I would never hear the end of it.”

“Canoodling in the kitchens?” Evelyn asked, smiling up at him wickedly. “How improper, Commander!”

He snorted at that, and held out a hand to help her up. She gladly took it, picking up her robe in the process. She wrapped it around her body as Cullen searched for a spare rag, finally finding one in a wooden box off to the side. He bent down and diligently scrubbed the floor, deleting all the evidence of their encounter. When he was finished, he tossed it into the fire. She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

She took his hand then and they left the kitchens together, heading in the direction of their quarters for a nice, hot bath. She wouldn’t get any sleep until she washed the smell of sugar, sweat, and sex from her body, and she knew Cullen wouldn’t either.

Maybe he would join her in the bath.

The thought of water running in rivulets down his naked body sent a fresh flood of heat through her, and her lips curved up in a smirk.

The kitchen had only offered a taste of what was to come. An appetizer, some might say.

But the main course was yet to come. And she had a feeling it would be utterly delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> I've never done any sort of sex scene involving food. I hope it turned out alright! :) 
> 
> Find me on tumblr! mahbecks.tumblr.com :)


	4. Try...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shout-out goes to CrazyFangirl, who suggested sex on the Inquisitor's balcony! :)

The first thing Evelyn noticed was that she woke before Cullen. It was a rare event; normally, he awoke hours before she did. A habit formed from his days as a Templar, he’d explained.

The second thing she noticed was that she was hot. Though they’d bathed upon returning from the kitchens in the wee hours of the morning, she felt sticky again, her skin damp from the heat of the bed. She threw the blankets off her body irritably, but the temperature in the room was hardly better. The sun was streaming in the balcony windows, and the fire hadn’t quite died down during the night.

She twisted her hair into an inelegant knot atop the back of her head and tied it in place with a strap. The dark strands were damp where they met skin, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She hated waking up sweaty. It made her feel disgusting and unclean. It was so much worse than the perspiration one worked up while battling the enemy or practicing in the yard. Or certain _other_ physical activities. 

She rose from the warm blankets, desperate for relief. She could feel the sweat beading on the back of her neck and between her breasts. A single drop fell down her temple, maddeningly slow.

She shrugged out of her silk robe, kicking the garment away from her irritably. But the silk was terribly thin and hadn’t been providing much warmth anyways, so its removal did little for her. Even clad in nothing but her bare skin, the heat remained.

For the first time in her life, Evelyn longed for the coldness of the Emprise du Lion. She would have loved to grab handfuls of snow and press it to her flaming cheeks, to her damp hairline. The ice would sting at first, but then the blessed coolness would come. She sighed just imagining it.

But there had to be something that she could do. 

An idea hit her then, and she walked over to the balcony, throwing open the doors. A wave of cool, mountain air hit her and she couldn’t help but groan in relief. The stone was cool to her toes as she walked out and grasped the stone balustrade with her hands. It was wonderful, and she shivered in delight.

She needed more. She sank to her knees and then lay flat on the stone, stretching her body out to its full length. Her back arched in delight, and she shifted a little, settling into a more comfortable position as her eyes slipped closed.

She lay there for long minutes, basking in the early morning coolness. Soon enough, the sweat dried on her skin, gooseflesh taking its place. It was high time that she went back inside, but she lingered, reticent to abandon her cool balcony for the oppressive heat in her quarters. Just a few moments more…

The lightest of touches upon her ankles told her that she was no longer alone.

They were feather light caresses, the barest brushing of lips against the sensitive skin. She hummed in delight as warm fingers joined the lips, tracing delicate patterns up her calves. She forced herself to hold still, the rising heat in her core making her want to squirm. The lips followed the fingers up toned legs to angular knees. They stopped there, pausing before running back down her calves to her ankles.

She sighed happily, her hands coming down to rest upon her heavy breasts. Her fingers found her nipples, already hard from the cold, and she gasped into her own touch. She created a rhythm with the touches against her legs, rolling them between her fingers with each soft, heated kiss. Pleasure lanced through her. She had to bite her lower lip to stifle the soft moans that began to pour from her throat.

She was wet. Maker, Cullen hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was sopping. Her core ached for his touch, desperate to have him within her.

As if sensing her desire, the kisses moved higher, a gentle hand spreading her thighs apart. He showered the soft sensitive skin with affection. The sweet, gentle touches were almost unbearable, and she found herself squeezing her breasts tighter, rolling them together, desperate for contact.

She moaned when she felt his hot breath on her sex, bucking into his face involuntarily. He reached out and held her hips down. She whined in disappointment, finally opening her eyes to glare down at her lover.

His hair was transformed into molten gold in the early morning light. A wicked smirk graced his lips from his place between her thighs, but his eyes were pure lust. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss at the juncture of thigh and hip. She inhaled sharply; he was close, so close to where she wanted him to be. She reached down to guide him to her sex, but he danced back out of her reach.

Cullen repeated the motion on the other leg, and again, and again, and again. Evelyn thought she might die from the sweet torture of his lips, just out of reach of her need. Each time she tried to guide him to her sex, he backed away, that insufferably handsome smirk still on his face.

“Cullen,” she said darkly.

He raised his head a little, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yes, love?”

“Nobody likes a tease.”

He reached a hand forward, quick as a snake, and felt her sopping sex. Her entire body jerked violently at the sudden touch, and she gasped involuntarily.

“On the contrary,” he murmured, “you seem to like teasing very –” He slid a finger along her aching folds for emphasis, “- _very_ much.”

“Please, Cullen.”

“Please what?” The tip of the finger pressed inside her, just barely, and she bit back a groan.

“You know what!” she snapped, squirming beneath him.

He pressed the finger inside her, a second one soon joining the first. “This?” he asked. He leaned forward then, blocking out the sun. She nodded emphatically, and his fingers curled within her.

“Yes,” she moaned. She ground down, trying to get his fingers deeper. He chuckled at her antics, his other hand keeping her firmly in place. She glared up at him through the pleasure, unable to stop herself from moaning at how her traitorous sex responding to his teasing.

He withdrew his hand without warning, and she scowled darkly. “Really?” she demanded, propping herself up on an elbow.

It was only then that she noticed that he was naked. She paused to admire his physique, captivated at how the sun warmed his bare skin, and he took the opportunity to grab her hips, pulling them up so that the tip of his cock aligned with her entrance. “Really,” he replied.

And then he slammed into her deep, groaning as her warmth enveloped him. She couldn’t even moan at the force of the thrust, the noise lost in her throat.

He took her hard and fast, her legs snaking up around his torso to draw him even deeper into her. The pleasure was intense after the gentle touches he’d used to arouse her, each thrust jolting her senses like mage lightning.

When her orgasm hit her, it was like floodwaters bursting through a dam. She cried out sharply, body stiffening as her legs fell to the ground. Her body slipped from Cullen’s grasp unexpectedly, greeted by cool stone once again.

He took himself in hand then, pumping his length a few more times. Evelyn watched him greedily as his eyes roved her body for the inspiration it needed. She loved the way he drank her in, loved how his head fell back as he found his bliss.

He sank down beside her, drawing her into his arms. She curled into him happily. Together, they formed a little ball of warmth, a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and skin. She pushed a strand of damp hair out of her face even as sweat trickled down her neck. But this  was a different kind of sweaty, a much better kind. _This_ was the kind of sweaty that she enjoyed.

“Good morning,” Cullen murmured into her ear.

She smiled. “Good morning,” she said in reply.

He drew away then, looking down at her curiously. “What were you doing out here, anyways?”

“Hmm?” Her sex-addled brain wasn’t quite making sense of the question.

“You were lying out here on your balcony, stark naked,” he said. “Anyone could have seen you. Surely you had a reason?”

“Oh,” she replied. “I was hot.”

He blinked in surprise. “Hot?” he repeated.

“It’s burning up in there,” she said, nodding. “I had to find some relief.”

“Why didn’t you jump in the bath?” he asked. “Dagna prepared those ice runes for times just such as these.”

The runes! She’d forgotten all about the runes!

Cullen correctly interpreted the startled look on her face. “You forgot, didn’t you?” he chuckled.

“Completely.”

He squeezed her tight, burrowing his face into her neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” she said lightly. “I rather liked the outcome of this.”

He snorted, propping himself up on one arm. “I’m certainly not complaining,” he agreed, eyes flicking down to her body. “The balcony does have a very nice view this morning.”

She smacked him playfully.

He grinned at her, leaning down to press a swift kiss against her lips. “We have a council meeting in a little less than an hour,” he reminded her. “Time to get dressed.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. "I'll need to bathe again." She allowed him to help her up, reluctantly walking back into the room. He caught her just as her feet hit the carpet, pulling her back against his chest. He leaned down, chin on her shoulder.

“Imagine me bending you over the war table,” he murmured wickedly. She inhaled sharply as the mental image came to her mind unbidden. “Fucking you senseless over Orlais.” Cullen rarely used dirty talk, saving it for those brief moments when they were frantic for each other. The use of such language now had her biting in lip in excitement.

“Is that what you’ll be imagining during the meeting?” she asked thickly.

He turned and bit her neck, just hard enough to send a small wave of pleasure through her.

“It’s what I’m _always_ imagining during meetings.” He released her then, walking over to the bath nonchalantly. “I believe you mentioned a bath?”

 _Maker’s breath!_ she thought as she walked over to him. The things he said!

How was she ever going to pay attention in a meeting again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
